


Burn

by Lemonayde



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe- Killjoys, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 20:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18977962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemonayde/pseuds/Lemonayde
Summary: Blurry needs to let go of some old memories and thoughts, so he does it in the only way he knows how- Destroying them.





	Burn

The desert is cold and lifeless in the absence of the sun, but Blurry doesn't care. He can't find it in him to even try to.

The sand under his boots crunches in a familiar and almost comforting sound as he walks away from the abandoned car he and Spooky have been using as a makeshift camp. It's stained his hands with soot from the burned remains, but it's the closest thing to a home they've got. 

His arms are full of old notebooks, every page bursting with scribbled notes from his darkest times. In his pocket, a matchbox. 

He gets as far away from the truck as he can without losing sight of it before letting the notebooks fall onto the ground from his arms. He doesn't bother putting them into a neat pile, for they'll be gone soon. Just smoke let free into an a unforgiving night sky. 

He wishes he could do the same with his thoughts, but this was the closest he'd get. He's going to savor it.

Digging into his jacket pocket for the matches, he pulls one out, inspecting it unlit before striking it. The flame flickers to life, and like him, the fire is a beast seeking only destruction in its life. He tosses it onto the pile of books.

It takes a second for it to come to life, the smell of burning paper filling his nostrils and then his lungs. He sits down to watch as the fire devours the darkest desires from his mind, the matchbox he was still clutching in his hand completely forgotten.

"You know, you really shouldn't play with fire. It's dangerous."

Blurry doesn't turn his head- he doesn't need to. He knows that voice so well that no matter what it says it would never raise alarm. "I'm not playing with it. I'm using it. Manipulating it."

The sound of boots against the ground grows closer, and then Spooky comes into his peripheral vision. He sits down beside him, not even asking if he's welcome. He always is.

"What are you burning?" He asks, and this time Blurry does look at him, watching the fire's reflection flicker in his eyes. 

It was beautiful really, that sight. All the things that comfort him there at once.

"Old notebooks." He says simply, because really it was simple. Even if it meant so much more to him.

"The ones you never let me read?" Spooky says, sounding amused as Blurry nods his head and returns to watching the smoke rise. 

"Yeah."

They sit in silence then, a comfortable one. The one Blurry appreciates, the one Spooky always offers when he needs it. They stay out there, the cold darkness surrounding them being fought back by the roaring light, until the fire shudders and goes out, lifeless. Nothing but charred remains left behind. 

Spooky gets up,stretches and yawns. Blurry continues to stare at what's left, swallowing hard before speaking. "Thank you for not letting me stay out here alone." He says, voice quiet. Spooky takes a moment to respond.

"I'm always here, Blurry. Whenever you need me, I'll be there." He holds out his hand, offering it to him with a smile barely visible in the darkness that had now consumed them. 

Blurry turns away from the lost memories and smiles back.

He takes his hand.


End file.
